Chapter 16 - Abella

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Abella Sterling (Female P.O.V)

October 20, 2074

After zipping up my bridesmaid's dress, I turned to admire it in the changing room mirror. The burgundy dress fell past my ankles, sweeping the floor with every step. Its off-the-shoulder design elongated the length of my neck while its soft fabric hugged my ample curves without being excessively tight. A split ran up the left side, stopping mid-thigh. And even the slightest movement provided the perfect view of my toned legs.

Most brides wouldn't dare choose a dress like this for fear of being outshone but not Cris. She didn't care about that. She just wanted her friends to look good on her special day.

I twisted to the side when a light tap sounded on the door. "Abella!" Saint called.

"Yeah?"

"Your phone kept ringing."

What now?

Softly groaning, I opened the door and took my purse from Saint's outstretched hand. After mumbling a quick thank you, I rummaged through my bag until I found my phone at the bottom.

"Oh yeah, I couldn't ask you earlier, but what were you and Logan talking about before I entered the kitchen?" I asked, scrolling through my list of missed calls.

There were five of them. The first two I scrolled past, given they were long-distance numbers, but the last three made me pause. All of them were from a private number. Usually, I wouldn't give calls like these a second thought, but with everything happening lately, I couldn't help but be a little unnerved and curious.

My finger hovered over the re-dial when I suddenly realized Saint hadn't answered my question. I looked up at him, and my breath stuttered when I saw his hooded gaze leisurely traversing the length of my body.

"Saint?" I softly called, ignoring my coiling stomach muscles as his eyes continued course.

He didn't respond, so I tried again. And this time, his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

"Yes," he said, his voice slightly husky.

The corner of my lips quivered at the twinge of pink staining his cheeks, but I resisted the urge to laugh. After all, I couldn't blame him. The dress Cris chose was eye-catching.

Deciding to move past Saint's slip-up, I repeated my question.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat and took a step back. "He wanted to fake being sick to get out of seeing your dad."

"What?!" My phone slipped from my fingers, landing with a thud inside my purse. "Why?"

"He thinks seeing him will cause you more stress and that it's better to wait until after the competition is over."

"I can handle a little stress from the game."

"Well, he didn't mean just the competition."

"What else is there?"

He sighed. "He knows about the serial killers and thinks that's the only reason I'm here to protect you."

"Oh my..." I breathed out, brushing my fingers through my hair. "How?"

"It seems everyone was talking about it at school."

"Oh god." I slumped against the wall with my purse dangling from my arm. "I need to talk with him. I should've talked with him."

How could I be so stupid?

I had foolishly thought I was protecting him, but I hadn't once considered the consequences of him finding out the truth another way. And now he knew.

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